


Supernatural Oneshots

by Onyxia99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drabbles, Feels, Fluff, M/M, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyxia99/pseuds/Onyxia99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short drabbles posted on my <a href="http://www.shipallthestuffs.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> focused around Dean and Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean Winchester was little once, too

Dean was three when he heard his mommy and daddy yelling. He was in bed listening to them argue, until the front door slammed and all he could hear was his mommy’s sobs in the room down the hall. He crept out of his room and went to hug her and tell her daddy didn’t mean what he said. He didn’t sleep that night, because he had to stay up and make sure mommy was okay.

Dean was four when his daddy told him to hold Sammy and run. Dean stood on the curb holding his baby brother as he watched his home burn down to ashes. When he saw the firemen drag his daddy out of the house alone he knew his mommy was gone. He didn’t sleep that week, because whenever he closed his eyes all he saw was the flames. 

Dean was six when his dad left him with a gun and the words “Make sure you watch Sammy, make sure he stays safe”. Dean barely slept for two days but it was worth it when his dad came back and praised him for watching Sammy. 

Dean was eight when his father finally came back after missing for a week. It was 3 am when he found Dean curled up on the couch by the door, his fist curled round a gun. He jerked awake when John’s boot caught him in the side. His father stood in front of him, frowning and covered in blood. Dean was scolded as he stitched up his father’s wounds. His dad didn’t care that those few hours was the most Dean had slept in a week, he just told him he should take better care of Sammy. 

Dean was nine when he snuck-out to steal presents for Christmas. He couldn’t bare to see the look of disappointment on Sammy’s face one more time. The present they got last was dad’s vomit as he stumbled inside, the smell of liquor pouring off him. It was four am when Dean returned to the filthy motel room, but Sam’s happiness as he spotted the presents under the beaten up tree was worth the risk and worry.

Dean was eleven when he went on his first hunt with his dad. He was handed a gun and a knife. He had been training and the weapons felt all too right in his little hands. And it was Dean who kissed Sam that night, promising that everything was okay. And it was Dean who lay in bed till the sun rose again, the screams of the woman they didn’t manage to save echoing through his head. 

Dean was fourteen when he learnt to drive. He spent hours upon hours in his father’s ‘67 Chevy, and if he was jealous that the car got more attention than him, it was his own business. Dean spent more nights curled up in the passenger seat than he did in a proper bed. 

Dean was sixteen when he got properly drunk. With a fake ID he bought enough shots to no longer feel the burn of alcohol as it went down his throat. He got his ass beaten by John when he stumbled into the motel that night at 2am, but the dreamless sleep was worth the hangover the next morning. 

Dean was eighteen when he and Sam got jumped by vamps in an alleyway. One had managed to get Sam before they had time to react, heavy rain making it difficult to see or hear. Dean reduced them to lumps of twitching flesh, years of pent up rage suddenly unleashed in every swing. He was tired of John and Sam’s fights, of the never ending monsters, of the motel rooms with weird stains. Sometimes he just wished he was three again, curled up in his mother’s arms. That night he didn’t meet Sam’s gaze as they stitched each other up, afraid of what he would see there. 

Dean was twenty-two when Sam and John had their largest fight yet. It ended when Sam slammed the door and John left to get drunk, leaving Dean just standing there, unsure of what to do. Tears burned behind his eyes and there was a lump in his throat. He didn’t want to believe that Sam could just leave him for collage. So Dean got into the car and drove till the next morning, his dad’s old music blasting through the speakers, trees and cars and buildings flashing past the window. He drove until his thoughts turned to nothing. 

Dean was twenty-six when saw Sam again. It was dark when he picked the lock on the door, but god was it good to see his brother’s face again. Their dad went on a hunting trip and hadn’t been home in a few days. Dean wasn’t sure if he couldn’t or simply didn’t want to look for John on his own, but he had spent enough nights awake with worry. 

Dean was older now, apocalypse averted, monster upon monster killed. He’d literally been to hell and back. He’d saved countless people and lost many too, and Dean felt years older than he was. But he’d never imagined he would have a house and a dog or wake up every morning in the arms of someone who loved him. Eventually, Dean even stopped sleeping with a gun under his pillow. Instead, he’d spend lazy mornings curled up in his angels arms, feeling safe, peaceful and content for the first time in years.


	2. Dean Winchester

Dean never got a childhood. It was always, ever since his mother died, Dean, do this, Dean, do that. This is how you hold a knife, this is how you shoot a gun. This is how you kill a demon, a ghost, a wendigo. Save and protect people. But make sure you look after Sammy, Dean. You’re family, Dean, make sure you look after Sammy.

So Dean did. He hunted the monsters in the night, monsters that most people would run from. But he always, always, made sure he looked after Sam. He sacrificed his food and his sleep. He stole to have some food on the table for Sammy, while their dad abandoned them in a dingy motel room, with weird stains on the bed and rickety tables and televisions that only showed two channels.

And sometimes, when Dean couldn’t sleep he’d allow himself to think of his mother and the life that could have been. He’d remember her smile, her voice and the smell of her hair when she hugged him. He remembered the songs she used to sing him before bed, and the pie she made for special occasions. But with every passing year, the memories became fainter and fainter. Sometimes, he thought that without that photo he kept he wouldn’t remember her at all. Her voice was already fading in his mind.

Dean rarely let this happen. Dwelling on the past changed nothing, and he had to look after Sammy. Look after Sammy, Dean. Kill the monsters, but look after Sammy. But sometimes, Dean wondered what his mum would say if she saw him now. Sometimes, he wondered what happened to the little boy who used to play with toy cars and love bed time stories. Because the man standing over a dead body, blood dripping from his blade was not him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Check out my tumblr at [Ship all the stuffs](http://www.shipallthestuffs.tumblr.com) or my personal one at [Onyxia99](http://www.onyxia99.tumblr.com)


	3. Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years of hunting pretty much guaranteed Dean's erratic sleeping patterns. He would wake in the middle of the night, remainders of nightmares flashing across is eyelids. Sometimes, he'd wake at 3am and lay there until the sun finally breached the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a random thing I wrote, per a friends request. Hope it's okay.

Years of hunting pretty much guaranteed Dean's erratic sleeping patterns. He would wake in the middle of the night, remainders of nightmares flashing across is eyelids. Sometimes, he'd wake at 3am and lay there until the sun finally breached the horizon.

Dean awoke with a groan, careful to not disturb the body beside him. The digital clock read 5:56AM, which was far too early by his standards. Dean flopped back down on his pillow, coming to terms with the fact that he'd not be falling asleep again soon. Instead, he turned his attention towards the window.

It was the middle of summer, so the sun had already begun rising; early morning rays dancing through the window. Dean followed the light down to the bed, where Cas lay sprawled on top of the covers. The sunlight lit up Cas' body, all angles and planes, like a model. He looked beautiful like this, his hair a dark halo on the pillow, his face more relaxed than Dean had seen in a long time. If Dean's heart melted a little and a small smile played on his lips, it was no one's business but his own.

Dean began to gently trace patterns onto Cas' skin, unafraid that he'd wake. Cas was a heavy sleeper. Ever since the angel fell, he and Dean grew closer.

Cas could no longer pop in and out at will, so he stuck around. Sam taught him how to use a laptop, Dean taught him how to make burgers and coffee. Cas had declared he didn’t like the “unsavoury liquid” until Dean put enough sugar in it for it to become sickly sweet. After that, Cas wouldn’t start the day without it.

Cas learnt how to brush his teeth, shower, do the laundry, but refused to brush his hair. Dean bullied him into a haircut, but Cas still sported his messy bed-head look. Dean liked it, although he’d never admit it out loud.

One night, Cas woke Dean with his piercing stare, which wasn’t any less intense than when he was an angel.  
“Dammit, Cas! How many times I gotta tell you- “

“I had a nightmare, Dean,” Cas interrupted him, and somehow they wound up sleeping in the same bed since. Sam raised his eyebrows when they left the room together in the morning, but Dean just gave a small shake of his head and no one brought it up since.

Now, whenever Cas’ memories came back to haunt him in his sleep, Dean would hold him, making soothing noises until they both fell asleep, arms and legs tangled. Cas was a blanket hog but Dean didn’t mind sharing his bed; their bed now, he mused.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas’ husky morning voice interrupting his thoughts. He was still lazily tracing patterns on Cas’ skin.

“Morning, sweet cheeks,” Dean grinned, propping himself up on one elbow. The sun still lit up Cas’ skin, golden and beautiful. He stared up at Dean, blue eyes warm and content. It took several long months for Cas to come to terms with being human, months where he barely smiled or laughed. It tore at Dean’s heart to see him like that, so he cherished every smile he got.

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asked.

“Just how gorgeous you look this morning,” Dean replied.

“Are you saying I don’t look gorgeous on other mornings?” Cas said with a pout, eyes filled with mischief.

“Of course not, baby. You look beautiful every day, just particularly fetching this morning,” Dean said with a smirk.

“Dean, don’t tempt me,” Cas growled, low gravelly voice sending shivers down Dean’s spine, their faces inches apart. Dean pulled back, despite the urge to let Cas have right then.

“Come on, man. I promised Sammy we’d pick up groceries today. He’s probably gonna barge in here in a sec telling us to get up so we can get the fresh stuff at the farmer’s market,” Dean said, tugging at Cas’ arm to try and get him off the bed.

“But it’s so early,” Cas groaned, burying his face back into his pillow.

“It’s seven, and if you don’t hurry up I’ll use all the hot water in the shower,” Dean said. This had Cas up on his feet in seconds, as he raced to beat Dean to the bathroom. Dean may be retired, but he wasn’t slow and wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

As he raced the former angel to the bathroom, both of them in nothing but loose boxers. Dean thought about how he could have never imagined this a few years ago. He could have never imagined feeling this happy and at peace, and now that he had this, he was going to fight tooth and nail to keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on Tumblr, my personal blog is [Onyxia99](http://www.onyxia99.tumblr.com), but if you wanna see more supernatural stuff, visit [here](http://www.shipallthestuffs.tumblr.com), a blog run by my friend and I!!


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